antsoar
Μέλος
- Όνομα
- Αντώνης
- Μοτό
- SWM RS300R
Έχει ενδιαφέρον, βρήκα το κεφάλαιο στο βιβλίο. Αν θεωρηθεί ότι δεν είναι αρκετά "ποδηλατικό" ας κοπεί.
Θυμίζω ότι εδώ είναι ήδη τέσσερα χρόνια στο δρόμο έχοντας περάσει 54 χώρες, βουνά, ερήμους και την Σιβηρία μες τον χειμώνα!
Αντιγράφω λοιπών από το βιβλίο του Alastair "Thunder and Sunshine, around the word by bike. Part two"
My bike was dying fast. The chain was snapping about twice a day. When you repair a broken chain you lose a link or two of the chain, so it meant that the chain getting shorter by the day. This adds even more strain to its tired links. I climbed into the Dolomites, a little nervous on the descents for I had no back brake. My front rim was buckled and so braking was an uncomfortable series of violent jolts. The rear rim was cracked, my bottom bracket wobbly and my few functioning gears jumped wildly around.
One day I had three punctures and, as night fell, my tyre started going down again. I had to pump it up every five minutes as I dashed to make the most of the dying light and find somewhere to sleep. In my wet tent that night I spent an hour with my pan filled with water in an attempt to find the hole in the inner tube, but with no success. The next morning I had five punctures before 11am and my chain was now so short that I could use only a few of the gears. The gears that still worked jumped and bounced infuriatingly. My front pannier clips broke and I had to lash the bag onto the frame with strings. My gloves had gaffa tape for palms, and my rain trousers had a gaffa tape crotch. My knees decided on sympathy pains as well, throbbing and aching at day's end as I crawled into my damp tent. And my stove kept breaking as well so I had to fix that most evenings before I cooked dinner. The expedition really was hobbling homewards.
The magnificent Dolomites had very civilised mountain passes. Signs told the altitude, how many kilometres remained to the summit and how meny more hairpin bends stood between me and the top. They ware about as easy as mountain passes ever get. I would climb two or three passes each day, but each one only took a couple of hours to climb so they were good fun. All around was a gorgeous landscape of huge walls of rock and autumnal forests that echoed as I yelled at my terminally sick bike.
My bike was a total contrast to the Sunday afternoon riders of Italy who purred along on carbon fibre dream machines looking every bit the professional in fancy racing outfits. There is a saying in Italy that "it is easier to buy a light bike than to lose weight". Clearly my bike and I were a lower class of being as the thoroughbreds rarely stooped to the level of replying to my greetings. Snobbishness like that was a demand to be overtaken. I got a childish pleasure from accelereting hard with four years of practice and overtaking the posers.
Ahead of me only the top of a mountain still glowed proud pink in the last of the settng sun. I was camping by a cold clean river in a steep autumnal valley. The evening was chilling quickly. Over that mountain pass lay Switzerland. I was at the bottom of the last pass of the ride. I sat on a smooth white boulder, hungging my knees and feeling quite sad. I didn't want all this to end. I could think of nothing better to do with my life than this. I could not imagine anything matching up to what I had done and, in melancholy mood, I anticipated dreary mediocrity awaited once I was over that pass and home.
I paused at the top of the Simplon Pass, build by Napoleon. Cowbells were ringing, the mountains were pristine, the car park was full of caravans. It was vintage Switzerland. It was the last pass in my world. I felt sad that the end was nigh. It was all downhill from there. I wondered whether I should just turn around and ride back down the way I had come and pedal on to Australia. But my bike would neve have made it that far so I just rolled on down towards Geneve and from threre up into France.
Θυμίζω ότι εδώ είναι ήδη τέσσερα χρόνια στο δρόμο έχοντας περάσει 54 χώρες, βουνά, ερήμους και την Σιβηρία μες τον χειμώνα!
Αντιγράφω λοιπών από το βιβλίο του Alastair "Thunder and Sunshine, around the word by bike. Part two"
My bike was dying fast. The chain was snapping about twice a day. When you repair a broken chain you lose a link or two of the chain, so it meant that the chain getting shorter by the day. This adds even more strain to its tired links. I climbed into the Dolomites, a little nervous on the descents for I had no back brake. My front rim was buckled and so braking was an uncomfortable series of violent jolts. The rear rim was cracked, my bottom bracket wobbly and my few functioning gears jumped wildly around.
One day I had three punctures and, as night fell, my tyre started going down again. I had to pump it up every five minutes as I dashed to make the most of the dying light and find somewhere to sleep. In my wet tent that night I spent an hour with my pan filled with water in an attempt to find the hole in the inner tube, but with no success. The next morning I had five punctures before 11am and my chain was now so short that I could use only a few of the gears. The gears that still worked jumped and bounced infuriatingly. My front pannier clips broke and I had to lash the bag onto the frame with strings. My gloves had gaffa tape for palms, and my rain trousers had a gaffa tape crotch. My knees decided on sympathy pains as well, throbbing and aching at day's end as I crawled into my damp tent. And my stove kept breaking as well so I had to fix that most evenings before I cooked dinner. The expedition really was hobbling homewards.
The magnificent Dolomites had very civilised mountain passes. Signs told the altitude, how many kilometres remained to the summit and how meny more hairpin bends stood between me and the top. They ware about as easy as mountain passes ever get. I would climb two or three passes each day, but each one only took a couple of hours to climb so they were good fun. All around was a gorgeous landscape of huge walls of rock and autumnal forests that echoed as I yelled at my terminally sick bike.
My bike was a total contrast to the Sunday afternoon riders of Italy who purred along on carbon fibre dream machines looking every bit the professional in fancy racing outfits. There is a saying in Italy that "it is easier to buy a light bike than to lose weight". Clearly my bike and I were a lower class of being as the thoroughbreds rarely stooped to the level of replying to my greetings. Snobbishness like that was a demand to be overtaken. I got a childish pleasure from accelereting hard with four years of practice and overtaking the posers.
Ahead of me only the top of a mountain still glowed proud pink in the last of the settng sun. I was camping by a cold clean river in a steep autumnal valley. The evening was chilling quickly. Over that mountain pass lay Switzerland. I was at the bottom of the last pass of the ride. I sat on a smooth white boulder, hungging my knees and feeling quite sad. I didn't want all this to end. I could think of nothing better to do with my life than this. I could not imagine anything matching up to what I had done and, in melancholy mood, I anticipated dreary mediocrity awaited once I was over that pass and home.
I paused at the top of the Simplon Pass, build by Napoleon. Cowbells were ringing, the mountains were pristine, the car park was full of caravans. It was vintage Switzerland. It was the last pass in my world. I felt sad that the end was nigh. It was all downhill from there. I wondered whether I should just turn around and ride back down the way I had come and pedal on to Australia. But my bike would neve have made it that far so I just rolled on down towards Geneve and from threre up into France.
) ανέβηκα από τη δυτική πλευρά βατούς χωματόδρομους ,βγήκα λίγο άσφαλτο και ξανεπιασα χωματόδρομο για να βγω από την πίσω πλευρά να χαζέψω (κι άλλο
) λίγο Μεσόγεια,ξανά γύρισα από χαμηλότερα υψόμετρα χωματόδρομους πέρασα παρατηρητήριο γλυκών νερών,βγήκα πυροφυλάκιο τρίστρατο και μετά κατέβηκα το μονοπατάκι 8 για να βγω περνώντας κάτω από Αττίκη οδό στην Αγ Ελεούσα στα πιστακια και επιστροφή γιατί πείνασα !!
